The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1887-01-21
! them chops frenched or whatever

"Oh, what a BORE" sighed Mildred
II was just getting into the swing oil
It," And she left the manuscript up.
on her desk to be resumed later.
The matter of the chops disposed OF
there were other things repairing at.
tention.
At last, however, she was at her
desk again. She read over the letter
with which her story opened to see
how it sounded. Really" said she,
Il think that starts off very well"
and then she took up the broken
thread. "Only yourself to blame that
this marriage has" A violent ring.
ing at the telephone again broke the
current. "Hallo," said our young
novelist.
Mildred, is that your"
Eyes, is it you, Allce?"
eyes. Mamma does not feel very
we'll and wishes you to take luncheon
with us. She has sent the carriage.
be ready to come soon as it arrives"
Obviously no more authorship to-
day. So slipping her paper into her
desk she departed.
Now John vas q nice sort of a fell
low. But we may as we'll acknowledge
at once that he was not SO heroic, nor
so wise, o so infallible an authority
as his wife supposed.
She had taken the outline of the
real John, touched it UP with the
glowing colors of her imagination and
out OF it had made an ideal John,
which while it bore a strong resem-
blance to the real was nevertheless
largely a work of art.
But, after s~ubtracting these addi-
tlons from the real, there was still left
a very excellent fellow, with good tai
entsy which he was using with rather
brilliant effectiveness in journalism
and various kinds of literary work,
who was a~doringly fond of his wife,
and had not yet recovered from his
surprise at his excessive good fortune
in possessing that much coveted treas
ure-for whom he had contended, with
many Others, In those anxious days
OF courtship. And nowhere she
was at home. waiting for him, while
he vas urging his brain to the top of
its speed, and driving his quill in eager
haste, thinking only of what it would
bring for him to lay at her feet.
Mildred was right in thinking he felt
anxious at times, for things did not
always turn out as he hoped. And he
oftentimes felt disheartened when he
thought that with the fullest measure
of success which he could achieve his
profession could never yield what so
peerless a wife as Mildred deserved.
For, of course, he had with his imagi-
nation retouched the real Mildred too.
The new purpose of authorship
brought q great light and hope into
Mildred's life. She felt important
indeed that she was much more i'm
portant than people was aware. That
she was carrying a very large secret
that if John only knewl
Then she pictured to herself his
reading her story, possibly reviewing
it. After he has written all kinds OF
nice things about it | will tell him /
am the author; or--or and her heart
turned cold and ~sick-what fhe should
say it was trash? For of course, like
other good critics, John was seldom
pleased. If things were all excellent,
what would be the need ofcritics? So
he had cultivated the art of discover
ing flaws in what seemed to ordinary
readers pure gems. He haddeveloped
rather a talent for pilloring people in
a single terse phrase, and was much
valued for his skill in beating down
with the editorial club tender young
aspirants who were trying to MIKE
themselves heard. This sounds bru-
tai. But he was only professionally
brutal. In his personal characters
tics none could be more tender or
sympathetic.
Mildred knew of this caustic vein
and believed it too-as she did also OF
Johns attributes and gifts-''but, "she
thought, sif he should say any of
those dreadful things about me; what
should / do? / should never-never
him."
And so during the entire day she
thought and planned. New intricacies
Of plot suggesting themselves-vivid
and interesting scene coming before
her stimulated Imagination.
Her mother urged her remaining and
sending for her husband to dine with
them. Her secret desire was to return,
but she looked at her mothers wistful
face and had not the heart to refuse.
She would stay and send for John.
That gentleman arrived at home at
the usual hour. As he put his latch
key into the door he smiled thinking
the quick ear which was listening
Tor it, and Of the pretty apparition
which would meet him in the hall.
by jove." he thought, what q lucky
fellow | am"
But the expected figure did not
coma To meet. him He WAS conscious